


Somebody That I Used To Know

by ficmuse



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-07
Updated: 2014-03-12
Packaged: 2018-01-14 23:09:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1282162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficmuse/pseuds/ficmuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peeta is trying to rebuild his life after the end of the war. Circumstances beyond his control force him to return to the Capitol. Haunted by memories of the past, only Johanna can separate the truth from the lies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Part 1

Spring was finally here. It had been a long, hard winter. A few weeks ago the flowers started to bloom, and the birds returned. The walk from my house into town was a pleasure on a morning like this. The air was crisp and the sky was blue.

Now that the ground had warmed up, construction had begun throughout the town. The drugstore was almost complete, just missing its roof. The new Hob was finished, much grander than the one before it. I heard the grinding of heavy machinery in the distance. The new medicine factory must have broken ground.

I turned the corner. Lined up in a neat row were the grocer, the notions store and my bakery. The exterior walls were up, but there was no door hung yet. I walked inside and the foreman, Joze, came over to see me.

He shook his head. “We’ve got a big problem, Mr. Mellark.”

“That’s not what I want to hear,” I replied. “We are over budget and over schedule already.”

“I know that, sir, I do,” he said seriously. “But we just can’t get our hands on the lumber we ordered. I’ve been calling and calling and I can’t get anywhere.” He showed me the paperwork. 

The lumber was supposed to arrive yesterday on the train. It was already paid in full, a necessity when the post-war building boom had made lumber in short supply. Without the lumber, construction was at a standstill. I couldn’t afford to waste any more time. I took the invoice from the foreman. “I’ll get what you need if I have to go to District 7 myself to find it.”

“It may come to that, sir,” Joze said. “But I do have bit of good news.” In the far corner a heavily padded package was propped against the wall. Joze unwrapped a corner and showed me the beautifully veined marble hidden inside. “I can’t believe you managed to get your hands on this.”

“Salvage from District 2,” I explained. “The marble was cheap. The shipping cost a fortune.”

We went through the rest of the plans. Everything had been going well, but without the lumber to build the counter and the remaining walls, there was only a few more days’ work before there was nothing else they could do. “I’ll get the lumber sorted out,” I assured him. “Just keep working on it.” We shook hands before I left the shop.

I was screwed. I did the calculations in my head. So far, everything was over budget. The materials had cost more. The labor had been inflated by delays due to weather. As it stood, I had just enough cash to finish construction. I had originally set aside a buffer to give the bakery a few months leeway before it turned a profit. But the overruns had eaten away nearly the entire buffer. 

My banker here had suggested I get a loan in the Capitol. I didn’t want to set foot in the place, much less owe some stranger money. But I’d have to. I needed to buy supplies for the bakery and pay wages to my apprentice. It wouldn't be enough even if I cut my own expenses to the bone. I’d definitely have to stop buying canvas and paints too. Anything extra would have to go.

My stomach gurgled, which reminded me to buy food. I greeted the merchants in the Hob. I bought eggs, a wheel of soft cheese, a pint of tiny, sweet strawberries, some applies and a bag full of root vegetables. 

I headed home for lunch. I tried calling the lumber company, but no one answered my call. I left a message. After eating one of the apples and a wedge of cheese, I went upstairs to my studio.

The quality of light in the attic was the best in the house. I repositioned my easel until the light was exactly the way that I wanted it. I tried to let go of my anxieties and worry and just pour my heart and soul into the work. Giving up my oils, even for a short time, would be hard. It was better therapy than Dr. Aurelius had ever been.

I had worked on this canvas for a few weeks now. The woman in the painting faced away from the viewer. She was nearly nude, caught while she undressed. Her discarded dress hung around her hips. Her hair flowed over one shoulder in a dark brown wave. 

I didn’t know who the woman was, but I painted her often. A line of canvases against the walls showed her in many poses. In one, she slept, curled on her side. In another, she was in profile, the sweep of her hair obscuring her face as she bent over a book. When I tried to imagine her face, my mind supplied Katniss’ image. But it wasn’t her body. It didn’t feel like her. So, her face was never painted.

The light in the room dimmed. Hours had passed as I worked on the canvas. Sunset changed the color of the sky outside the wide windows. I cleaned my brushes and headed downstairs. As I reached the landing, I saw Katniss through the window. She was dressed in her hunting clothes, with her bow and quiver slung over her shoulder.

I tapped on the glass and she looked up. She waved and shifted direction, towards my house. I opened the front door just as Katniss walked up the path. A brace of rabbits dangled from a string in one of her hands. “I wish you had seen the view out at the lake today. So beautiful.” 

“Looks like you’re having rabbit stew for dinner.” I gestured at the game in her hand. “If you want to join me, it’ll go well with the loaves of sourdough I’ve got in the oven.”

“Sounds wonderful.” Katniss placed her bow and quiver on one of the porch chairs. I opened the door and walked in the house. 

In the kitchen, Katniss cleaned the rabbits as I chopped up potatoes and turnips for the stew. Haymitch knocked on the back door and walked inside. “You got room for one more at your table?”

“Always,” I replied. Katniss took another bowl and spoon out of the cupboard and set them on the table.

“How was the hunting today?” Haymitch asked. Katniss told him about her day as I toasted thick slices of bread to go with the stew. Soon the meal was ready. The stew turned out thick and rich, perfect with the tangy, sourdough bread. We sipped on the hot cider.

“How’s the bakery coming along?” Katniss asked.

“I ran into a bit of a hitch,” I explained. “There’s a problem with the lumber delivery. My foreman is getting the runaround, so may I need to go to District 7 and take care of things in person.”

Haymitch’s eyebrows rose. “That’s not good, Peeta. Didn’t you already pay for that lumber?”

“I had to pay in full when I ordered it,” I replied. “I need the lumber and I don’t have the money to start over with another company.”

Haymitch frowned. “Let me see that invoice.” I retrieved it, and then handed it to him. “Bozeman Lumber. I know the owner, Bozey. Effie used to date him.” He patted me on the shoulder. “I’ll sic her on him. Your lumber will be here tomorrow. Guaranteed.”

“Thank you, Haymitch.” I got up and fetched a plate of dessert. I placed the plate of cookies on the table and they tried each kind. There were rolled horns, powdered with sugar; deceptively strong rum balls; and delicate rounds of crispy wafer and sweet caramel lace.

“These are really good, boy,” said Haymitch. He licked powdered sugar off his fingers. “Those rum balls have a nice kick to them.”

“I don’t know who’s going to buy these fancy cookies,” said Katniss, “but they are really delicious.”

“The workers building the factory are making good money and there’s nothing much to buy here,” I said. “I heard in the Hob there are plans for a big office building next. It’s some kind of R&D building for the factory. That means lots of well-paid doctors and scientists coming to town and staying.”

“Hopefully they love cookies,” said Katniss. She yawned. “Hey, thanks for dinner. I’m going to head home.”

“You want me to walk you?” I asked.

Katniss shook her head. “I’ll be fine.” She slipped out through the back door.

“I’m going to head home too,” said Haymitch.

“Before you go,” I said, “there’s something I need to ask you about.”

He frowned. “What’s the matter? You look serious.”

“I’m in a big hole here with the bakery, financially,” I said. “I’ve spent more than I should have. Some of it was my own fault. I wanted the larger ovens, the marble counter. I took on that apprentice and I have to pay him a salary even if we’re not open yet.”

“Are you asking me for a loan?” Haymitch asked.

“No, I know better than to borrow from a friend,” I said. “I have to go to the Capitol to borrow from a bank there. I wanted to ask if you knew someone honest.”

“You don’t need anyone to lend you money. All the money you could ever want is a phone call away.” He walked into the front hall and came back with the wicker basket that held my mail. “You really should open this stuff.”

“I only open up the ones from the government, or the bank, or a vendor. It's a bunch of crap I don’t care about,” I said. “When the basket gets full, I toss them out. “

“Well, start caring. Your bank account will love you for it.” Haymitch dug through the pile. “Here, this one is good.” He pulled out a thick one and lobbed it at me.

I caught it and opened it. It was an invitation to a cocktail reception, hosted by someone I’d never heard of. “Wow.” The amount of money I was offered was just a little less than I’d spent on that fancy marble counter.

“All you have to do is dress up nice, show up on time and not barf on anybody,” Haymitch said.

“But I hate all of these people. I hated being in the Capitol. No one is real there. Everything is fake.”

“The money’s not fake, and you need it. There’s not many advantages left in being a victor. But this is one of them.”

I really needed the money. “All of my options are crap. But this is the best one, I guess. I’ll have to do it.”

He dug through the pile. “The scented ones are the scary ones. Be careful with those.”

“What’s scary about them?” I asked.

He chuckled and ripped one open. “I’ve wanted to suck you and fuck you from the first minute I saw your face on my television,” he read in a high-pitched voice, then burst out laughing.

“Are you serious?” I took the letter from him and continued reading. No, he wasn’t joking.

He dug around in the basket and opened up a few more. “If you want to make a whole lot of money, you can take up one of these lovely ladies on their offer.” He showed me the letters, all offering me very large sums of money for sex. “Or these gentlemen, if you find that appealing.”

“Very funny.” 

“You’re twenty years old. Sex and money? That’s killing two birds with one stone.” 

“I’m not whoring myself out,” I stated. “I have some principles.”

He shrugged. “Then just do dinner and dancing, a little photo op here and there. A few of these engagements can pay the bills back home for a long time.”

“Well, I’m going to have to. I need the money.”

He tilted his head. “You just might enjoy yourself. Don’t let life pass you by, while you hold onto a hope and a dream. Go have fun.” 

“It doesn’t seem right, to go to fancy parties and all that in the Capitol while Katniss isn’t allowed to leave District 12.”

“Peeta, listen.” He rubbed his chin as he spoke. “I know you love the girl. The whole world knows that you love her. The question is how long will you wait for her? Because you deserve to be loved.”

I don’t even know what to say. Haymitch clapped me on the shoulder. “I’m heading home. You accept some of those invitations. I promise I’ll look after her while you’re gone.”

That night, I lay in bed for a long time. What were my hopes? What did I dream? How long was I willing to wait for Katniss?


	2. Chapter 2

_Last night I dreamt that somebody loved me- The Smiths_

Each night, I dreamed of her. Every night. Not just the memories from our childhood, or from the Games. My dreams were filled with images of her naked body, entwined with mine. I felt her hands running along my back. I tasted the sweetness of her mouth.

I woke from the dream straining, desperate for release. I touched myself and exploded in seconds, in a rush of pleasure. Then I lay there, alone, cold and sticky. I hated myself, because I knew these memories weren’t real. 

These were memories of things that had never happened. I had never made love to Katniss. But I remembered the feel of her lips on my skin, the warmth of her around me. We’d never made love, and yet I knew what it was like to sink myself inside her. I knew the feel of her mouth around me. I knew these things, and they were lies. It made me hate myself, question myself. It made me want to finish the job the Capitol had begun so long ago. It made me feel like I was losing my mind.

Before dawn, I prepared for the day and went to the kitchen to make breakfast. I watched the sunrise as the reddish light rose over the trees. The cheese buns were fresh out of the oven when Katniss opened the back door. “Hey, I’m leaving for the lake. I was thinking fresh trout for dinner?”

“Sounds good,” I agreed. 

“Can I steal a cheese bun for my breakfast?”

“Of course.” I made them just for her and she came by each morning.

She helped herself to a bun. She tore it apart as if she was ravenous. “You are a genius,” she said. “Yum.” 

“I love you.” The words tumbled out of my mouth. 

She smiled at me. “I know you do.”

“No, truly.” I sat down next to her at the table. “I’m in love with you, Katniss. How do you feel about me?”

Her smile was gone. “You know I care about you.”

“But do you love me?” I hadn’t asked in such a long time. I thought I knew the answer, but I needed to know. “Not like a brother. Not like a friend. Is there more?”

Katniss leaned forward and kissed me. She was so light and gentle; it was as if a butterfly brushed across my lips.

I broke the kiss. “Katniss, please. I don’t know what to think. I’ve given you space. I’ve been patient. We eat dinner each night. You come by for breakfast. Sometimes you stay over in my bed. What does it mean?”

She met my eyes. “If I could love anyone, it would be you. But I can’t.” 

_“I’m sorry, Peeta,” she said. “You know I love you.”_

The shiny, gray memory appeared in my mind. The familiar, hated feeling of confusion hit me. I was disoriented, looking through two lenses at the same time. Past Katniss, who loved me. Present Katniss, who did not. I braced my hands against the table, my head reeling.

“Peeta?” Katniss said. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” The shiny gray of the past had gone, leaving only the clear present. Katniss clutched her hands in her lap, the cheese bun forgotten on the table. “I just need to know if there is a future for me, with you.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

Her response answered my question. I felt hollow, raw. “I see.” She didn’t love me. I didn’t know if she ever did. The gray memory was fake, false.

“It isn’t about you. I just don’t think I can ever be somebody’s wife. It’s just not something I can do.”

_“I don’t want to have your baby,” Katniss said, clearly. She enunciated each syllable carefully, her eyes cold. “I have never wanted children and I never will.”_

The shiny and the clear swapped places, flickered in and out of my vision. The words of the memory repeated in my mind. “And you never wanted children.”

“No, I never did.” Her voice is clear and dispassionate.

I was tired of disorientation, confusion. I just wanted to know what was real. “So, you will never be my wife. You don’t want to have children with me.” My voice was calm and steady. “True?”

Katniss looked away from me. “Peeta, it’s not that simple. I have my reasons.”

“I don’t think it matters,” I replied. “It’s all the same, in the end.”

“I know you stay here because you love me. But I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to love you the way you deserve to be loved.” It hurt so much, to hear Katniss say these words to me. Haymitch had said the same thing last night. In retrospect, it had been a warning. 

“Thank you for being honest with me.” I had loved her for so long. I couldn’t imagine loving anyone the way that I loved her. It hurt so badly, worse than any injury I had ever had.

“I will always be your friend,” Katniss said softly. She got up and left then, leaving me alone in the kitchen.

I held my head in my hands. It was no good. No matter what I did, she would never want me. No matter how long I waited, she would never love me. She would never love me. She had never loved me.

_“I love you,” she whispered. Her hand slid across my thigh. I gasped as she closed her hand around me. “Sometimes when you kiss me, I feel it everywhere.”_

There was a disconnect that couldn’t be ignored. It was never Katniss in my dreams, in my fantasies. Those bastards hijacked everything from me. They stole my deepest hopes and even my desire. They scooped out the heart and soul of me and replaced it with lies.

Suddenly, I was filled with rage. I grabbed a heavy rolling pin from the counter and smashed the flour jar. Shards of ceramic and flour dust flew all around the kitchen. I smashed all the jars and flours and sugar spilled to the floor. I smashed everything in sight, plates, mugs. 

I had just bashed in one of the cabinets when a strong pair of arms pulled the rolling pin from my hands. “That’s enough,” Haymitch said harshly. “Peeta!” He threw the pin away and backhanded me. The pain stopped me in my tracks, halted the swirling rage in my head.

He forced me into a chair and held me in it, his hands heavy on my shoulders. “Settle,” he said. “Just breathe. Breathe.” As the minutes passed, I did. His hands fell away. 

Haymitch placed a glass in my hand. I took a sip and rich, strong wine filled my mouth. “It’s over. She makes me so happy and it hurts like hell, all at the same time. I can’t treat her like just a friend, and she will never be more.” I gulped the wine. “I have no clue what to do.”

Haymitch sighed deeply. “There are some fights you cannot win. Sometimes, you just have to know when to retreat.”

I looked at him seriously. “I have loved her my whole life. I don’t know how to stop.“

“Don’t worry about that right now,” Haymitch said. “Let your wounds heal. Let your memories fade.”

I laughed. “I don’t know how to forget her.”

He placed the wine bottle in my hand. “That’s what this is for.”

***  
When I woke up, it was mid-afternoon. My mouth tasted like it had been stuffed with dirty socks. I threw up, washed my face and armpits, changed my shirt and headed downstairs.

The mess in the kitchen had been swept away. A set of metal canisters sat on the table, as well as fresh bags of sugar and flour. The broken cabinet door had been taken down. I picked up the note on the table. “You’ve done it for me- H”.

I opened all the invitations. I made a short stack of ones that I would accept and another of the rejects. The one on top was an invitation from Effie herself, so I called her. 

“Darling boy!” she exclaimed. “It has been much too long. Is your wood there? I was very cross with Bozey.”

“Thanks so much Effie,” I replied. “I’m heading into town soon and I’ll see.”

“He said it would arrive on the morning train. You call me back immediately if it is not there.”

“I will. I really appreciate your help. The reason that I’m calling is to let you know I’m coming to your cocktail party Friday.”

“Marvelous! Wonderful!” Effie squealed with delight. I pulled the phone away from my ear. 

“I will accept a few other invitations as well. I’ll make it a little break, see the sights.” That would net me enough money to keep the bakery open for at least a year, even without a profit.

“What invitations? Tell me the names, sweet.” I rattled off the names. “No darling, not them, that’s a no,” she said twice, and I discarded those invitations. 'Who else do you have?"

I read aloud through the other ones. “Yes to Laramie, Douglass and King,” Effie said. “Lovely. I will call and let them know you are coming. Everyone will be so excited! So, this weekend you have events, and the next two weeks as well. I’ll book you a nice room at the Excelsior. I’ll put together a calendar for you with your timetable for the next few weeks. I’ll have it waiting at the hotel when you arrive. You’ll arrive tomorrow?”

“I can be ready by then,” I said. “Is there anything special I should bring to wear? I have some of my old suits here at the house. I’ll pack a few.”

She clucked with her tongue. “Darling, all of those clothes are so out of style now.”

“I don’t care as long as they pay me when I show up.”

She sighed deeply. “You are such a trial. Are your measurements the same?”

“Excuse me?”

“Collar size? Waist size?”

“I think so,” I replied. 

She sighed again, exasperated. “Well, never mind. I will come myself. I will meet you at the train station at 10 am tomorrow. I’ll call Devon and his team immediately. He is an amazing stylist and he owes me a favor.”

“Don’t go to any trouble on my account,” I said. “Don’t choose anything expensive. I don’t want to spend money on clothes and all that stuff. It’s not important.”

“Pshaw,” she replied. “You must spend money to make money, dearest. I simply can’t have you set foot in town dressed like a ragamuffin. The better you look, the more money they will offer next time. Ta-ta.” She hung up.

My head throbbed, the result of too much booze and too much Effie. I gulped down two pain pills and headed into town. The sight of tall stacks of lumber in front of the bakery was most welcome. Joze confirmed the good news when I walked through the door. “It’s all good, Mr. Mellark,” he said with a smile. He handed me a letter from Mr. Bozeman. I opened it and skimmed it. “My apologies...complete misunderstanding...my best to Effie.” There was a small credit slip inside, which indicated I had been refunded 10% of what I’d paid.

“Excellent,” I said, and clapped Joze on the shoulder. 

After a brief stop at my banker’s office and the Hob, I went to the house of my apprentice. He lived a few blocks away, in a row of new wooden homes. 

“Mr. Mellark!” Kyarl smiled widely when he opened his front door. “Please come in. I was just taking some bread from the oven.”

I joined him in the kitchen. We taste tested the excellent brioche. “Perfect,” I said. “Nearly as good as my father’s.”

Kyarl beamed. All three of his chins waggled in happiness. “I was very careful to follow your recipe.”

“I’m going to the Capitol to take care of some business. I’ll leave messages with Joze for you if there is anything that comes up. It will be another three weeks or so until the shop is done. I have an account in the Hob, so get any supplies you need and give them my name. If there is an emergency, you can call Effie Trinket in the Capitol. The banker has her number.”

All the details were settled. I went home to pack. Tomorrow I was headed to the big city.


	3. Chapter 3

_I say, we can go where we want to_  
 _A place where they will never find_  
 _And we can act like we come from out of this world_  
 _Leave the real one far behind_  
\- Safety Dance, Men Without Hats 

I was pleasantly surprised to see Haymitch waiting at the station when I arrived. “A little bird told me you were coming,” he said.

“I took your advice,” I replied. “I’m selling my soul to bankroll my future.”

“Aren’t we all,” he said wryly. “A change of scene will do you good, Peeta. You just kick back, let loose and take it all in for a little while.”

“I wouldn’t know how to let loose if I tried,” I said. “I’ve never had time to just...do nothing. Not ever.”

“Welcome to the privileged elite. We don’t do a damn thing we don’t want to do and we don’t get out of bed unless someone writes us a big, fat check. “

The train arrived and Effie descended. She quickly pecked a kiss on my cheek and pulled me aboard. “So much to do,” she trilled. “Never enough time! Always the same story.” Effie was exactly the same, a charming, nervous bird. She wore a tightfitting blue dress with an angular hem and shoulders. Her long, blue eyelashes were so long they brushed against her cheeks. Her matching wig was a short style, cut close to her head. I didn’t think I had ever seen her ears before. 

I was quickly introduced to my stylist, Devon, a painfully thin man with harp cheekbones and closely cropped gray hair. He handed off to a prep team to be measured, fitted, clipped and pressed. My hair was shorn, my nails manicured. I was scrubbed and rubbed, stubble removed and all my scars polished away. I looked in a mirror when they were done and was surprised to see how fresh faced I looked. 

Devon walked in carrying a selection of underwear in his hand. They were all impossibly tiny. “Sleek is in. Silver is very hot right now.” He handed me one pair and I pulled them on under the towel. He rolled his eyes. “I hate the shy ones. Truly, who cares about someone seeing your bits and pieces?” The ridiculously small underwear turned out to be massively stretchy. They fit.

His assistant walked in, her hands full of clothes on hangers. I had already forgotten her name. She whistled when I dropped the towel. “Totally fuckalicious.”

“Stand in line, baby,” Devon said. “This boy’s on everyone’s wish list where we’re headed.”

I suffered through three changes of clothing before Devon was satisfied with my appearance. Effie was right; the clothes were different. More tight, which I wouldn’t have imagined possible. They were more subdued, with less glitz and color.

Finally deemed acceptable to the team, I was freed to go to the dining car. It was the same comfortable oasis of crystal and mahogany that I remembered. Effie clapped her hands when she saw me. “Perfection! You are beauteous!”

“You look very pretty.” Haymitch smirked and Eddie smacked his arm. I noticed that Haymitch had also changed clothes. His suit, like mine, was very tailored. He wore a collarless white shirt, open at the throat.

The spread of food on the table was amazing. There was an entire roast pig. Pies, cheese, everything I loved to eat. Suddenly famished, I dived into the food. Even the bread was incredible, better than anything that I had ever eaten in my life.

Effie told us about her new boyfriend. Her cocktail party tomorrow night was to be held at his home. “I can’t wait for you to meet Darkan. He’s the head of affairs for the Department of War. He’s just a delight. You’ll love how droll he is.”

“I’m sure we’ll love him.” Haymitch drained his glass and poured another. “Look, Effie, before we arrive at the Capitol, we need to have a little man to man moment. Can you excuse us for a minute?”

“I’m sure there’s nothing you can discuss that would surprise me after all we’ve been through,” Effie said petulantly.

Haymitch scratched behind one ear. “We’re going to talk about fucking, Effie. You have some etiquette advice to contribute? What position is most on trend? What lube is in fashion this year?”

I burst out laughing. Effie clapped her hands over her ears and rushed from the car.

Haymitch raised his eyebrows at me. “It’s good for her, to shake things up every now and again. Well, I actually thought we were going to have this talk a long while back. But there never seemed to be a good time.” He smiled wryly. “Then I thought we were all going to die, so it seemed irrelevant.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small package wrapped in shiny material. “This is called a kontro.” He unfastened his belt. “Here, let me show you.”

“No, that’s okay,” I interjected, but he ignored me. 

Haymitch pulled down his underpants around his hip and showed me what looked like a small, metallic tattoo. “Just pull away the adhesive from one and stick it on,” he explained. “Make sure your skin is nice and dry, so it stays put.”

I leaned over and looked at it. There was a design in the middle that glowed yellow. 

“That’s all there is to it,” Haymitch explained. “Stick it on, get your freak on, no worries.”

“What does it do, exactly?”

He shrugged. “Blah blah, chemicals, hormones, whatever. It takes care of it all. No disease. No babies.”

“How long does it last?”

“Ten years or so,” he said. “If you meet Miss Right and you’re ready to make little Peetas, you can take it off. Just press down on the design and hold it for 30 seconds. It’ll pop off on its own.”

“That’s all there is to it?”

“Almost.” Haymitch held up one hand, palm facing me. “Very important detail. When it runs out of juice, it lights up and glows red. Red means stop, pal. Do not get happy until you stick a new one on.”

“Got it. Well, thank you.” I placed the package in my suit jacket.

“I’m telling you this now for a reason,” he said. “You have no idea what the Capitol will be like. Women will be throwing themselves at you. Lots of women. Very attractive, very friendly women.”

“I’m not just going to stick this thing on and have sex with the first woman I see,” I retorted. “I have morals. Unlike you.”

Haymitch shrugged. “Look, all I’m saying is you’re a free man. You’ve got no obligations, no strings. You are healthy, young, and alive.” He took a swig of bright green liquid from his glass. “You should seize the day. Carpe your diem, son. We know better than anyone you should gather your rosebuds while you can and all, because tomorrow they may just try to kill us one more fucking time.”


	4. Chapter 4

_I try to stay awake and remember my name_  
 _But everybody's changing_  
 _And I don't feel the same_  
\- Everybody’s Changing, Keane

The Capitol was much as I remembered it. Haymitch and I walked together the few short blocks from the train station to our hotel. As we turned a corner, a little girl of five or six ran up to me. “It’s Peeta! It’s Peeta!”

I knelt down to her level. “Hello there, little lady. “

She threw her arms around my neck. “You’re my favorite victor, Peeta!”

I laughed and hugged her back. “Thank you. That is so nice.” 

An Avox rushed over and pulled the girl away. “I’m sorry, Mr. Mellark. Adelind has forgotten her manners.” An intricate metal box at her throat permitted her to speak in a flat, expressionless voice.

“You said Peeta never came to the Capitol but here he is!” the little girl exclaimed. “You’re a liar, nanny!”

“Well, I don’t usually come to the Capitol,” I explained. “So that wasn’t a lie at all.”

“Did you bring Katniss?” Adelind asked. She was quickly hushed and taken away. “What?” she said loudly.

Katniss would never be coming to the Capitol. Katniss was still restricted to District 12 as a result of her assassination of President Coin.

After a moment of silence, Haymitch spoke. “Effie’s submitted another appeal for a Presidential pardon for Katniss. Her friend Darkan is high up in the Department of War and has a lot of pull with the Cabinet. It may happen this time.”

“She’s the only one left of us who isn’t free,” I replied.

“You can’t be that naive, Peeta. There are cages and there are cages. There’s a new regime, true. But if you believe the old corruption is gone, you would be wrong.”

As we walked, several people stopped us to ask for an autograph or to take our pictures. Haymitch always obliged with a smile and I followed his lead.

“It feels strange to be treated like a victor again,” I remarked as we continued on.

“Get used to it. Remember, everyone you see in the Capitol watched every second of our Games. All the victors are hugely popular. You’ll see the others as well while you’re here,” said Haymitch.

“The other victors do the same thing we’re doing? Making appearances to earn a paycheck?”

“It’s probably the only perk left to being a victor in the Games, now that we don’t get the income from the government like we used to. Of course, nobody’s whored out by the government anymore either.”

“I still can’t believe Finnick and Cashmere agreed to that.”

“There was no agreeing about it. They felt they had no choice, and for good reason. Johanna refused and they killed her family off, one by one.”

I thought about it. Would I have been that strong, with my family in jeopardy? Or would I have made a different choice?

“Johanna’s here in the Capitol. She does the party circuit full time. Enobaria, too.” Haymitch smiled. “Enobaria, though, she specializes in those one-on-one private engagements. That girl has some very devoted, very kinky fans. I’d be scared of the teeth, personally.”

“And the other victors?”

“Beetee has a real job. He works for Department of War. Intelligence. Annie Odair, she does the same thing I do, comes to the city a few times a year and makes enough to pay the bills back home. She won’t leave her son for more than a couple of days.”

“I’m surprised Annie is stable enough for that,” I said. “She was always so fragile.”

“Annie has really found her strength since Finnick died. She’s had to be mother and father both, to their son.”

I thought of Finnick and Annie, how much they had loved each other. How very little happiness they had shared before Annie was left to raise a child alone. It made my broken heart seem like child’s play.

We arrived at the Hotel Excelsior. Surrounded on all sides by tall buildings made of glass, the hotel was entirely different. Made of red brick, it only rose for twelve stories or so. A large glass dome topped the modest structure. 

The marble floor echoed our footsteps as we walked to the reception desk. The lobby was decorated in the new, popular fashion. The decor was understated, smooth and sleek with minimal color. 

A smiling young woman with a dark bob haircut and large red glasses greeted us. “Your usual suite, Mr. Abernathy.” She handed Haymitch a key. “You are booked into the Eden Suite, Mr. Mellark. We so honored to have more than one victor as our guests.”

“I don’t need a suite,” I protested. “Just a simple room will be fine.”

“The suite is complimentary,” replied the clerk. “Compliments of the owner, Mr. Drake.” I took the key from the clerk.

“Our baggage will be arriving shortly from the train station,” said Haymitch. 

“Very good, sir,” said the clerk. “It will be brought up to your valets as soon as it arrives.”

“I have plans for dinner. I’ll see you tomorrow at Effie’s party.” Haymitch clapped me on my shoulder and walked up the wide main staircase.

My suite was on the eleventh floor. I took the elevator upstairs. The suite was very large and elegant. Unlike the lobby, these rooms were decorated in the lavish fashion I had always associated with the Capitol. I was particularly amused by the sofa, which was a large oval entirely covered in yellow feathers. It looked like one of Effie’s wigs. My bed was shaped like a large, clear plastic egg.

There was a small stack of mail on a low table in the sitting room. On top was a heavy black envelope with the hotel's logo. It was a dinner invitation for this evening from my host, Mr. Drake. I believed this was the opportunity to sing for my supper; or in this case, my suite. 

 

xxx

I spent the evening at a small dinner party hosted by the hotel owner, Mr. Drake, and his wife. A private dining room in the hotel had been outfitted for a lavish meal. Once I was introduced to his wife and the other ten guests, it became clear why I had been invited.

Mrs. Drake, or Mimi as she asked to be called, was a huge fan of mine. She knew every detail of my Games. But she wanted to know what had happened after. “I felt just awful for you,” she said, “I couldn’t believe what happened to you here in the Capitol, during the war.”

A swirl of images filled my field of vision. I watched as Enobaria ripped into a guard’s arm with her teeth. Johanna looked over her shoulder and laughed. “It is not something I care to talk about.” I sipped my glass of rich, red wine.

“Of course,” Mimi said. “I understand it must be painful to discuss. But you will have to discuss it soon, will you not? At the tribunal?”

“I’m sorry?” The images faded as I concentrated on her words.

“Surely you have heard? Darkan has uncovered the last war criminals. They were in hiding in District 2.”

“There is to be a war crimes tribunal,” said Mr. Drake. “The criminals from Snow's regime will be tried for their atrocities. Enobaria and Johanna have identified the scientists and soldiers who were responsible for your captivity and torture. We assumed you would testify against them as well?”

“Of course I will testify,” I said. “They must all be brought to justice.” Why had I not been told? Was I just too far away in District 12 to be worth including?

The conversation moved on to other things. “We are very excited about the trade agreement with Europa,” said a short bald man. “The goods that have already begun to arrive are of unbelievable quality. " "And this agreement opens up are a whole new market for the hotel to Europan officials, businessmen and tourists," said Mr. Drake.

“I heard the victors would be guests of honor at the state dinner this weekend,” said a tall woman with wavy blonde hair. “Is that true?” I confirmed I would be attending. 

After dessert, one of the other guests, Mr. Adamson, asked to speak to me privately. We stepped into the hallway, where he gave me his business card. His company manufactured prosthetic limbs. “The new technology we have,” he said, “will create a seamless, perfectly functioning limb. You can swim, dance, carry heavy weights, and even handle uneven terrain. I would be honored to assist you with a replacement for your existing appliance.” I thanked him and made plans to visit his office during my stay in the Capitol.

Back in my suite after the meal, I sat down with my sketchbook and my charcoal. I closed my eyes and reached inside myself, intentionally accessing memories I usually spent all of my strength trying to forget.

My hand moved without my knowledge. Hours passed as I drew, bringing forth flickering memories to the surface. I set aside the shiny memories, over and over, until the images showed clear and true. I drew portraits of the faces I remembered. A woman, bent over Johanna, attaching electrical pads to her body for torture. She was petite, thin, with bright red hair. I saw the name on her uniform in my minds. “Clarion,” I printed in neat script under her face. 

The next was a heavyset man, missing one eye. In my memories, I saw him backhand Johanna, blood flying from her lip. “Roans,” I identified him. My brain screamed with hatred as I looked at the contours of his face in my sketch.

I tried and failed, over and over, to remember another face. I felt the pressure of a syringe in my arm, the blossoming of sensation inside me. Oddly, I remembered love, affection. I remembered the feel of lips against my face, the pressure of a hand curled around my own. “A different kind of torture,” I wrote. But no face was forthcoming. I set aside my charcoal and pad and closed my eyes.

That night, I dreamed again of the woman. We were entwined, panting, deep in the throes of lovemaking. She kissed me hard and tilted back her head as her orgasm overtook her. 

I woke up with my heartbeat pounding in my ears. My mind tried to make sense of it all. It all clicked into place. The figure in my portraits was the lover in my dreams. Images from the past flowed through my mind. I remembered her naked body under mine. I cradled her in my arms as she cried. I saw her body sprawled across the floor, a pool of blood under her head. Shiny gray and white flickered, both the false and the true.

The shimmering memories in my head moved faster and faster. They cycled back and forth between what was true and what was a lie. What was supposed to be Katniss, and what was Johanna. What had always been Johanna.


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks to Effie, I obtained the address of Johanna’s apartment building. I went there first thing the next morning. It was a fantastically tall, exceedingly shiny wedge of glass on the outer perimeter of the Arts District. The very polite doorman informed me that Ms. Mason was out of town and would not be returning until this evening.

I made a conscious decision to set aside the new memories and their implications. I would, most likely, see Johanna this evening at Effie’s party. I wasn’t sure what I would say. All I knew was that I needed Johanna to confirm what I suspected to be true.

I had made a list of errands to complete in the city. The resources here in the Capitol were far beyond what I could obtain in District 12. I had a business to run and my confused memories and feelings would have to wait.

If I hadn’t heard about the war crimes tribunal before, I would have learned that day. Vid screens in all the public areas of the Capitol were full of the news of the capture of the latest accused war criminals. The other big news was the trade agreement with Europa. Everywhere I went the vid screens showed the footage of Panem’s own President Lindholm shaking hands with Jacques Béarnaise, the head of the Europa League. My face flashed quickly on the screen as the news anchors discussed the upcoming state dinner.

I spent a productive day in the city. I went to a large kitchen supply warehouse. I intended to buy simple pans and baking sheets. Instead, I was stunned by some of the wares. There were elaborate molds of shining copper, shaped like animals, hearts, even castles. Some were as small as cookies and others were large enough for a cake to serve a dozen. “Imported,” the salesman explained. “From Europa.”

At the wholesalers', I made arrangements for shipments of sugars and flours. There were many new offerings from Europa. I was amazed to see types of flours and sugars and varieties of nuts I had never seen before. I bought staples that I needed and some of the new, exotic ingredients to try.

At the confectioner’s supply, I bought sprinkles and pastilles for cookies and cakes. The result of the trade agreement could be seen there as well. Pulled candy was folded in smooth, sleek bows of all different colors and sizes. Candies shaped like metal ball bearings fascinated me. The owner took me aside and handed me chunks of rich brown chocolate. It melted in my mouth with a smooth complexity I had never tasted before.

I walked through the Arts District on the way back to my hotel. Placards advertised nightly concerts, plays, and poetry readings. A girl in an elaborate pink wig handed me a printed card. It was an invitation to an art show, a retrospective of painters from New France in Europa. The paintings in the picture were stunning, smears and dots of paint that revealed themselves to be portraits. I tucked the card into my pocket.

The sun began to set and I realized I would have to hurry to make Effie’s party in time. I walked again past Johanna’s building. What would I say, when I saw her again? 

***  
I truly hated Effie for this. Evidently, tonight’s event was a costume party. The top of my costume was a huge, red, round lollipop, mounted in the middle of my chest. A white “stick” made of some sort of soft plastic descended from the bottom, brushing against my knees. The lollipop was made of heavily starched felt and rubbed against my chin unless I walked with perfect ramrod straight posture. I shifted and it poked me in the Adam’s apple. In vain, I tried to push the damn thing away from my face as I tripped through the cobblestone courtyard in front of Darkan’s home.

I handed the invitation to the guard at the gate. He shined a light on it, then my face. “It’s a honor to meet you, Mr. Mellark. I loved watching your Games.”

“Thank you,” I replied.

“Have a great time,” he replied, and I stepped inside the party. The foyer was three stories tall, with an elaborately carved central staircase. The walls of the huge house were draped with billowing silk banners in all colors of the rainbow. There was quite a crowd in the foyer, but I didn’t recognize anyone.

“Mr. Mellark?” There was a tap on my shoulder. I turned to see a blonde girl with glasses and a clipboard. She gestured for me to follow her. “The other victors are already here, in the conservatory.” Her tone made it clear that my tardiness had been noted.

I followed her through the crowd. We walked through room after room, with people everywhere. Finally we reached the glass conservatory. It was filled with beautiful flowers and plants and intricate metal furniture. 

“There he is! You horrible boy, you have blown the entire timetable for the evening!“ Effie grabbed me by the elbow and dragged me through the room. She wore a dress that was silvery at the top, brown and quilted in the middle and silver again at the bottom. It took me a few seconds to realize she was a partially unwrapped chocolate bar. 

As we made our way through the room, I spotted our destination. All of the surviving victors were here. They were lined up in a row against a wall of what looked like braided rows of hard candies.

I barely recognized Johanna. Her hair, black when I last saw her, was now dark blonde. Long soft curls hung over her shoulders. Her dress was made of gauzy, pale pink net. The dress plunged low in front. Huge puffed sleeves ended just above her elbows. The entire contraption looked like it would pull off with one quick tug.

No one had escaped from Effie’s candy theme. Apparently, all the men were supposed to look like idiots in their lollipop outfits. The women were dressed as clouds of cotton candy. They all wore the same outfit as Johanna in different colors. 

The very tall man who stood facing them had captured their attention. He gestured wildly as he spoke, his hands waving. All of them were fixed on his words.

Effie tapped him on the shoulder. “Darkan, Peeta’s here! Finally, we can do the photos.” She turned around, her eyes scanning the crowd. “Where the hell is the photographer?” She wandered away in pursuit.

Darkan turned to face me, and then looked down. “You are so small in person!” He exclaimed delightedly. “I could fit you in my pocket!” No costume for Darkan. He wore a simple dark suit with a red silk pocket scarf. He had gray hair, slicked back from his face.

Haymitch, dressed in an equally stupid green lollipop outfit, laughed. “You are kinda small,” he agreed.

“But you survived the Games!” Darkan boomed. He slapped me on my back, nearly knocking me over. “That is why I love Peeta Mellark! Tenacity! Strength!”

“Strategic use of camouflage paint,” supplied Enobaria. She laughed, baring her pointed teeth.

“Strategic use of running and hiding,” Annie teased.

“Strategic use of getting a girl to save his ass,” finished Johanna.

“This is just as much fun as I imagined,” I replied. “I love being in the Capitol.”

“We’re just all happy to see you,” said Beetee. 

“Picture time,” Effie trilled as she returned, the photographer in tow. She arranged us according to height. She adjusted our costumes and straightened our hair. When she was finally satisfied, we took the photos in various configurations. Just the men; just the women; all together; with Effie; without Effie. The whole process dragged on forever. Finally, we were done. 

The group of victors split apart, all headed their separate ways. I tried to follow Johanna but quickly lost her in the sea of people. I needed to speak to her.

Finally, I spotted Johanna in the crowd. She stood in front of an overflowing buffet, making herself a plate of food. I stood next to her and took a plate. “Don’t you think this is weird? Being paraded out at parties? Shaking hands and taking photos? It’s like being on tour, all over again.”

“I’m sick of it.” Johanna took two flutes of champagne from a passing server and handed one to me. “I’ll be retiring from the party circuit soon. I just opened an art gallery, here in the city.”

We placed food on our plates and I followed her to a table. We were interrupted several times by people who wanted photos or autographs. After the last fan left, I turned to Johanna. “I hate this. I can’t wait to leave. I’m glad I live where people leave me alone.”

“Well, that’s the point of exile, isn’t it?” Johanna’s eyes looked deep into mine. “No one shunts themselves off to the ass end of civilization unless they want privacy. Or unless they have no choice.”

It was clear that this was a reference to Katniss. That was the last subject I wanted to discuss, least of all with her. “Well, the adulation clearly agrees with you. You look very happy, Johanna, and I’ve never seen that before.” Her expression immediately dimmed, and I felt like an ass. “I just mean you deserve to be happy, after everything you went though. I’m glad that you are. Happy, I mean.” I tripped over my own tongue.

She frowned and small lines creased her forehead. “I don’t believe in dwelling in the past.”

As I looked at her face, images swirled back and forth in my consciousness. More memories, flooded into my mind. I dug my nails into my thigh, trying to gain control.

“Are you okay?” Johanna asked. 

“Being in the city has brought up a lot of memories. At home I go weeks, sometimes, months, without the hijacked memories bothering me.” The images moved faster, hurting my head. I took a sip of my drink.

Johanna frowned. “Well frankly, if you can’t remember, I would consider it a blessing. I remember every second of what happened.”

“I would like to talk to you about what happened to us. I can’t tell the difference between the false memories and the real ones.” And some of what seemed to be real didn’t make sense.

“Peeta, they tortured us,” Johanna said. “We were tortured and then we were rescued. That’s all there is to it.”

“I’m sorry. I’m not trying to hurt you, by bringing up the past.”

Johanna raised her chin. “You couldn’t hurt me if you tried.” She enunciated every syllable, her eyes like ice.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” In fact, my instinct was to comfort her. I was so confused. Images flickered through my head, of Johanna smiling, then screaming. I reached out and touched her hair, one long spiral slipping through my fingers. I remembered kissing her, the feel of her mouth under mine. “I remember the two of us, together. Were we lovers, Johanna?”

Abruptly, Johanna smacked my hand away. “Go home. Go back to your one true love and your happy ending. Just leave me alone.”

She pushed back her chair and walked away. I watched her as she went, an elegant figure in a crowded room. Her gown swirled around her, her tall gold heels clacking on the shiny marble floor as she stalked away from me.


End file.
